


help me how

by neverdanced



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Established Relationship, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:30:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4838768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverdanced/pseuds/neverdanced
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Opening the door, Bucky pulls the little robot forward. It’s kind of cute, he’s gotta admit. Not to mention, pretty damn awesome. No matter what he’d said, robots are incredibly cool. Especially the ones Stark’s got. </p><p>Or: Tony gives Bucky a robot (and it isn't a babysitter, no matter what Bucky thinks)</p>
            </blockquote>





	help me how

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dracavia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracavia/gifts).



Steve hits next on his playlist.

Skips from some big band piece to The Black Keys. The opening cords of _Gold on the Ceiling_ flood his headphones and he nods along while he continues to work.

He sits in Stark’s garage. It’s a lower level of the tower and the space is neat, occupied primarily by sleek vehicles and rows of equipment. Ever since he started his little side project, the garage has become his retreat. He nestles in for a few hours every week or so, sometimes more.

Said side project is the Harley he’s restoring.

It’s a 1939 pre-war knucklehead. It’s in rough shape, but the bones sure are beautiful. In a distant memory he hears the two pistons connecting to the pin in the crankshaft. He hears the distinctive roar it creates and something tugs in his heart.

He can’t wait to hear it again for real. 

When Stark had laid eyes on it he’d scoffed. Said he could have one in mint condition delivered to the tower within hours but Steve had managed to explain he wanted to do this. He wanted to work on it with his own two hands and bring it back to its former glory. And Stark, thankfully, had understood. He’d given Steve a few pointers, showed him how to use the AI to pull up any schematics he needed, and that was that.

Now, Steve works in silence for another twenty minutes or so before the soft ping of the elevator causes him to sit up. He plucks an ear bud out and turns to see Stark exit the elevator. The circles beneath Stark’s eyes indicate he hasn’t slept in a couple of days, but the frazzled looks about him says he’s likely consumed enough coffee to fill a kiddie pool.

“Stark,” Steve greets him with a nod. He makes to stand but Stark waves him off.

“No need for formalities, Captain. Just stopping by to drop off a present.” He motions down and back, and Steve’s gaze follows the gesture.

A robot rolls across the garage floor. It comes to a rest near Stark’s feet and reaches about mid-calf height. It’s a roly-poly fella, short and squat with an oddly comforting seam on its round head that makes it look like it’s smiling. The small trill it makes is cute, and Steve smiles a little.

“You got me a robot?” He asks. “What—I mean, what does it do? The tech you’ve got on our floor pretty much does everything for us already.” He doesn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but its true. The appliances are self-cleaning, laundry is shuttled from the hamper to the washer and returned twice a week, and Steve isn’t sure if Stark’s got some sort of stealth cleaning crew or if the floor just cleans itself but whenever he tries to sweep or dust there’s nothing to be picked up.

Stark huffs. “This is a new design,” he explains with a wave of a hand. “Something I’ve been working on for a while. It’s meant to be a—I don’t know, a companion, I guess. Keeps you company, keeps you on track with your daily schedule and monitors your stats, blood pressure, heart rate and so on. It knows when to remove you from a situation or to initiate calming procedures. It’s kind of like a service dog, only this thing doesn’t need to be taken outside to shit.”

Steve furrows his brow. “I—“ He squints a little, unsure what to say. "I mean. Um. Do you think I—"

Before he can finish the thought, Stark cuts him off. “Jesus Christ, you're really going to make me say it, aren't you.” Stark tosses his head back and lets out a long, exasperated sigh. He throws his hands up in the air. “It's not for you. It's for Tall, Dark and Highly Skilled with Knives. It's my way of welcoming him to the tower. A no hard feelings sort a thing. I know he’s been having a rough time and I thought—I mean, this is by no means the finished version but see how it goes. It’ll help him, I think.”

Steve stares at the little robot for a long moment, and then looks back up. “That’s a very kind gesture, Tony. Thank you.”

Stark sort of nods his head from side to side. "Right, yeah. No big deal. I've needed someone to test it, anyway, and.. well." He shrugs. “Anyway, JARVIS assisted in the programming. It’s got Barnes’ schedule, when he normally wakes and sleeps. It’ll remind him when to take his meds, all that jazz.” 

“I’m sure Bucky will appreciate it, too. He loves robots.”

“I know. I’ve found him in my lab a few times, chumming around with Dum-E and Butterfingers. I think they like him more than me.” Stark sticks his lower lip out as he says this and flicks an invisible piece of lint from his shirt.

Steve smiles. “Well, he probably doesn’t call them names like Dum-E and Butterfingers.”

“Those are their names. Not my fault,” Stark replies with a shrug.

“Names you gave them,” Steve points out.

“Whatever. Enjoy your robot.” He turns on a heel and strides toward the elevators. As he steps inside he calls, “Hope your boyfriend doesn’t kill you in your sleep or anything like that.” And Steve rolls his eyes because he knows he doesn’t mean it.

At his feet, the robot beeps and Steve begins to clean up, excited to introduce him to Bucky.

 

* * *

 

Steve finds Bucky in their kitchen.

He’s got a half eaten bagel in his hand and is reading something on his tablet.

The robot immediately rolls over. Two arms extend from its sides. It lets out a bright chirp and raises one arm as if to shake hands. 

Bucky looks down. “What the shit?” He asks around a mouthful of bagel. He lifts his gaze back to Steve, who shrugs.

“It’s a robot. Stark made it. Says it’ll help you.”

“Help me how?” Bucky raises his brow and takes another bite of bagel.

“Well, it’ll remind you to take your meds and to sleep. It’ll keep you company if I go on a mission. Plus, it has a read on your stats so it’ll know if you’re having any problems and it can calm you down—“

Bucky cuts him off. “So it’s a babysitter,” he says, deadpan. His gaze shifts to slightly angry and he throws the rest of the bagel in the sink. “I’m not a fucking baby.”

“That’s not what it is, Buck. Its only here if you need it.”

“It’s fucking stupid, is what it is.” He’s scowling now, but it doesn’t have any heat behind it. 

Steve swallows thickly and realizes he may have approached this situation the wrong way. While he'd been caught up in the benefits, Bucky had clearly zeroed in the fact that its mere existence means he needs looking after. Which, he doesn’t. Not really. But he has his moments where the robot could certainly help.

Quietly, Steve tells him, “You love robots, and this one is _yours_.”

“Robots are stupid.” He ducks his head and picks at the granite countertop.

“Okay.” Steve steps forward and ducks down. “We’ll turn it off, but I’m going to put it in the closet. That way, if you decide you want to give it a try, we’ll still have it. Deal?” He glances up to see Bucky shrug, which Steve interprets as yes. He doesn’t want to give the thing back to Stark because he knows Bucky will come around.

He just needs a little time.

So Steve keys in the code, putting the robot to sleep.

 

* * *

 

“So, JARVIS, how’s RoboCop enjoying his bot?”

Tony sits in his lab, tinkering with the suit. He’s made a few minor adjustments and Dum-E stands by with a fire extinguisher because maybe he set himself on fire earlier. But it was only once. Okay, maybe twice. Actually it was five times, hence the standby.

“As of today, Sergeant Barnes has not made use of LASSI, Sir. He did not take kindly to the introduction. I do not have access to sound recording on their floor, but footage shows a short altercation and then Captain Rogers put LASSI into sleep mode. The bot currently resides in their coat closet.”

“Three-hundred thousand dollar piece of tech being used as a coat rack, awesome.” Tony tries (and fails) not to roll his eyes. “I thought folks who survived the depression were supposed to be grateful for anything they’re given.”

“I do not believe that’s the case, Sir. I believe Sergeant Barnes may need some time to warm to the idea.”

“Meh. Whatever. At least I appreciate my bots. Right?” He turns and flicks Dum-E, who straightens up and holds the fire extinguisher in ready position.

“Don’t you dare.” Tony points a finger in warning and Dum-E slowly lowers the canister. “Good boy,” he mumbles before setting back to work.

 

* * *

 

Most of the missions Steve takes are quick; brief takedowns within a two hundred mile radius, or the occasional jaunt to the opposite coast to deal with some wannabe baddie who isn’t as tough as he’d like to be. Things are normally settled within the day and he’s back by late evening or early morning. 

Then comes word of a case in Germany, where a man with connections to HYDRA has been tied to multiple missing person cases. Missing persons who have suddenly popped back up with no memories of their time missing or the new scars they bear. What the scares mean, nobody knows.

He’s clearly done something (and is likely still doing something) and Steve and Natasha are sent to do some recon before calling for reinforcements. 

Steve will be gone at least a week, and he tells Bucky this.

“You have Sam’s number. You can ask JARVIS for anything.”

“I know, I know.” Bucky pushes the heel of his palm against his forehead and closes his eyes tightly. He’s seated at the island in the kitchen, atop a stool. “I’ll be fine.” His demeanor reads the opposite. He’s clearly agitated and Steve lays a hand on his shoulder.

“Buck, look at me.” Bucky closes his eyes tighter and tries to squirm away from his grip. “Buck,” Steve repeats.

Finally, some of the tension leaks from Bucky’s muscles. He lets out a slow breath and lowers his palm. Then, he opens his eyes. They’re a little watery and Steve’s heart tugs.

“I don’t have to go,” Steve tells him, which isn't exactly true but if push came to shove he could pull some strings and Barton or somebody could accompany Nat and Steve could join them for the latter part of the mission.

Bucky frowns. “Yes, you do," he says quietly. "People are in danger, and you have to help them. It's... it's what you do.”

Steve cards his fingers through Bucky's hair. He hasn't combed it today and it's a knotted mess. “You’ve spent plenty of time on your own. You can do this,” he assures him.

Bucky begins to nod, then stops. He lets out a quiet sigh and drops his head, hair falling in a soft veil to cover his face. “I can’t even leave the tower,” he admits, quietly. “There’s only so much food in the fridge and the last time I tried to make a pizza I got lost in my head and it burned and set the alarm off and—“ Steve presses a finger to his lips, quieting him.

He pulls him into a loose hug and kisses the top of his head. He can feel the slight tremble running through Bucky's body. Steve traces his hands up and down Bucky's back and then draws one up to his chin. He tilts Bucky's head and leans down to kiss him. Applies just the right amount of pressure and then tangles a hand in his hair. Bucky deepens in the kisses. Presses into Steve’s body and then gasps a little as he pulls back. His pupils are dilated but he’s clearly back in the present, not trailing off into the dark place he’d been headed.

“You with me?" Steve asks, and Bucky nods. "There’s always food in the communal kitchen and JARVIS can have anything you need delivered,” Steve reminds him.

Bucky swallows thickly. “Right,” he says, nodding his head.

“You can call me, you can call Sam, you ask JARVIS for anything.”

“I will,” Bucky repeats. He lifts his chin. “I’m going to miss you,” he admits.

“I’ll miss you too, jerk,” Steve replies with a soft smile.

“Punk,” Bucky replies.

They share another a kiss and then Steve all but lifts Bucky off the stool and stumbles toward the bedroom because screw it; he’s still got an hour.

 

* * *

 

He’s fine.

Really, he is.

He’s just… a little lonely. 

Earlier, he’d gone up to the roof where Doctor Banner keeps his herb garden. But Doctor Banner wasn’t there and JARVIS informed him that he’s out of the country for the next month. Nat’s gone so he can’t spar with her in the gym as he’d like, Ms. Potts is in a meeting, and Barton’s watching something called Dog Cops in the communal area but Bucky couldn’t get into it so he left.

Now, he sits in he and Steve’s apartment and watches reruns of Iron Chef.

He’d like to go outside, but he only goes out with Steve. The one time he’d gone out on his own he’d had a panic attack and wound up lost, thirty blocks to the east. Maybe he could handle going out on his own now, but he doesn’t want to risk it. 

So, he remains in the tower.

After an hour or so, he glances toward the closet.

Steve wouldn’t know. Doesn’t have to know.

He stands up and walks over. Opening the door, he pulls the robot forward. It’s kind of cute, he’s gotta admit. Not to mention, pretty damn awesome. No matter what he said, robots are incredibly cool. Especially the ones Stark’s got. He likes to go down to Stark’s lab because the ones he’s got in there are amazing, basically human in the way they interact with you.

Steve had written the code down, and Bucky keys it in.

The robot comes to life, lighting up and whirring. It tilts its head and beeps a couple of times. Bucky stares at it.

“Um.” He gestures toward the living area. “Wanna watch TV with me?” He asks, and immediately feels stupid. It’s a robot. Of course it doesn’t want to watch TV.

Only it immediately launches itself forward and rolls into the living area. It parks itself beside the sofa and seems to look toward the television.

“Okay,” Bucky mumbles. “Cool.” He sits back down and is surprised when the robot lets out a chirp of laughter when one of the judges makes a particularly witty comment, and by the low whirr of disappointment it lets out when a contestant drops an entire pot of broth. 

Glancing toward the robot, Bucky lifts his brow. “You like this?” He asks. The robot turns its head. It chirps in what Bucky assumes is agreement and huh. Okay.

He turns back to the television just as the robot does.

 

* * *

 

The nightmare tears through him.

It’s a memory, really. The pain of electrolysis and ice—as he wakes, his head is pounding and his mouth is dry. He begins to roll toward the edge of the bed, and sees a dim light glowing. The robot sits there, a glass of water in hand. It extends it toward him and trills quietly.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, because that’s exactly what he wanted.

He drinks greedily and finishes the glass within seconds.

The robot extends the hand and he hands the empty glass back. It retreats to the kitchen and a minute later, returns with a fresh glass.

He takes it. “Cool,” he says. “Thanks you.” The robot chirps and settles beside the bed. He drinks a quarter of the glass and sets it on the bedside table. Pushing the covers off of himself, he settles on top of the blankets. It’s going to be a long night.

Just as he thinks this, the robot begins to purr. Sing, really—a soft melody that relaxes him and calms him to the bone.

Soon enough, he fiunds himself drifting off.

For the remainder of the night, he sleeps peacefully.

 

* * *

 

When Steve returns, he casts a curious glance between Bucky and the robot.

They’re sitting the living room. Bucky’s hair is tied in a loose bun and he’s knitting—an activity suggested by his therapist. The robot is watching Chopped. It chirps happily as a contestant finishes in the last .07 seconds and Bucky agrees it was close. At the opposite end of the sofa sits Barton, eating a cold piece of pizza.

“Hey.” Steve stops behind the sofa. He leans down and nuzzles Bucky’s neck. Bucky shrugs him off. 

“Shower,” he mutters. “You smell like dirt.”

Which is probably true. He’s had a couple of cursory showers over the week but could use the thorough, hot spray of their own.

“Yeah, man, you stink,” Barton chimes in.

Bucky tosses a ball of yarn at him. “No one asked you,” he says, and at his side the robot turns its head and trills in Barton’s direction, as if to say the same thing. Barton yelps as the yarn hits his shoulder and Steve chuckles a little. 

He then presses a quick kiss against Bucky’s cheek before heading for the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

When he gets out of the shower, Barton is gone and Bucky’s in the kitchen looking over some takeout menus. Walking up behind him, Steve wraps his arms loosely around his waist. “So, how was it?” He asks. They’d traded texts throughout the mission so he’d known Bucky was fine, but seeing it with his own eyes is what puts him at ease.

“Fine,” Bucky replies. He reaches to the left and picks something up. “Made you a really shitty scarf.” He hands it back over his shoulder and Steve takes it. The knit scarf is a little lopsided and the yarn is a blue that matches his uniform.

“Thanks, Buck.” He wraps it around his neck and Bucky glances back. 

“Jesus,” he says, scrunching his nose. “You look ridiculous.”

“But I love it,” Steve replies. He’s being cheeky and enjoys the rise it gets out of Bucky, who groans and wipes a hand over his face. After a moment, he turns and pulls the scarf from Steve’s neck. He tosses it off into the living area and Steve feigns a brief pout.

Pressing up onto his toes slightly, Bucky kisses him. Short and sweet. “I did good,” he says as he pulls back. “I mean, I knew I would but—yeah. It was good.”

“Good,” replies Steve. “Great.” He cards his fingers through Bucky’s hair, pulling some of it loose from the bun.

Then, the robot comes rolling up out of nowhere. It’s holding the discarded scarf and Steve lets out a laugh when he sees it. It lifts its hand, as if to return the scarf to Bucky. 

“Not you, too,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. He plucks the scarf from the robot’s hand and balls it up before shoving it onto the counter. Steve’s gaze dances between the robot and Bucky, and Bucky seems to catch the look. “Yeah,” he says with a shrug. “The robot’s my friend. Deal with it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Steve replies, lifting his hands. He’s happy, really. This is good. He steps toward the counter. “What’a you want for dinner?” He asks, changing the subject. Bucky steps up to his side and together they look over the menus.

 

* * *

 

Steve’s in the garage again, working on his bike.

The elevator pings and Stark comes striding over, some green mixture in his hands, which he sips thoughtfully. “So, how’s the bot?” He asks, stopping at Steve’s side.

Steve glances back. “Great,” he replies.

“JARVIS tells me Frosty is finally making use of my little gift.”

Choosing to ignore the nickname, Steve nods. “Yeah, it’s—it’s really great. It’s helping him a lot, I think. I mean, in little ways. It knows something’s wrong before even he does and I feel like its curbed a number of panic attacks and other incidents before they even happened.”

“Well, that’s the point,” Stark says with a shrug, but Steve can see he’s pleased.

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve tells him earnestly.

Stark wets his lips and seems to consider a sincere answer, but instead says, “Well, cool, glad you’re not using it as a coat rack anymore. That was a little rude, you know.”

And Steve rolls his eyes a little because on the topic of rude, Stark’s clearly been spying on them again.

Waiting a beat, Steve casually fires back, “Plus, you know, it’s intuitive in other ways. Like, last week we were in bed and we couldn’t find the lube. Out of nowhere, the thing comes rolling up, reaches under the bed, and hands it to us.” 

Bucky had actually been mortified when that had happened, but playing it off as cool is worth every penny when Stark goes a little red and sputters.

He throws his hands up in the air. “TMI,” he shouts and turns. “TMI, TMI. My robots are cutting edge tech, Rogers, not sex toys. Do not abuse them.” He continues to mutter to himself as he walks onto the elevator and before the doors close he points a finger at Steve and adds, “I will sue you, you know.” Which no, he wouldn’t.

Chuckling to himself, Steve turns back to the bike and continues to work.


End file.
